


Not Needed Here

by Decent_Arrow78



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Jealousy, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 10:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decent_Arrow78/pseuds/Decent_Arrow78
Summary: Ramsay gets rid of Myranda.





	Not Needed Here

Sansa was relieved to know that Ramsay didn't bother her at the moment. She was standing in the courtyard, listening to the sounds that came from every direction. The hounds were barking in the distance as they waited for flesh, the men were working for hours and Theon, better known as Reek, was busy cleaning the hall. Their marriage wasn't too long ago, and she felt his touch with every step she took, even if he wasn't present. She felt disgusting.

Her disgust became greater when a familiar figure appeared out of nowhere, grinning from ear to ear. It was one of Ramsay's whores, maybe his favourite. She couldn't tell, and she didn't want to. Sansa remembered her fingers on her back as she was bathing her, and it was almost entertaining to watch her eyes becoming wide as she told her who she was. She was a pathetic girl.

Sansa kept looking straight, not interested in starting a conversation with the girl who smelled of dog. It didn't prevent Myranda from talking. "My lady. Why are you standing in the cold? It's warm inside," she told Sansa with a feigned, gentle voice. She was only looking for trouble and knew that Ramsay would let her get away with it. Myranda smirked as she noticed that Ramsay's wife refused to answer.

The kennel master's daughter didn't come without her bow. She started to toy with it with her fingers, occasionally glancing up at the Stark lady. She was convinced that no other woman was as skilled as she was, and it was a thing that Ramsay always complimented her on. Myranda was sure that Ramsay only hurt Sansa for enjoyment, letting her suffer each night. It made her jealous and furious at the same time. The Bolton belonged to her.

"You haven't forgotten about what I told you, have you? Ramsay gets bored easily. He hunted beautiful, wonderful girls down when they expected it at least. Even I was shocked," she stated, though she didn't sound shocked at all. "Ramsay needs an heir. You are his wife, and as soon as he gets what he wants, well," she began, seeming to search for words, "You're not useful anymore. He loves girls with red hair, he told me. I bet he wants to know how fast they can run."

Sansa rolled her eyes in annoyance, not paying attention to the girl's pathetic attempts to frighten her. "I assume you are still unhappy with our marriage," she almost teased, but her voice was as cold as ice. She didn't need to see Myranda's face to know that her grin fell off. "I wonder if he grew bored of that lately," she continued. Turning around, Sansa looked directly at the kennel master's daughter's hurt face. It was the most amusing thing she has ever seen.

Suddenly, Myranda went for an arrow, working on her bow to draw it, and she positioned herself in front of Sansa. She was breathing faster by now, probably filled with rage. Sansa remained calm and rolled her eyes a second time. "Will you shoot your lord's wife? Is that what he wants?" she asked, striking the other girl's nerve. She was so easy to anger. Myranda was about to loosen her grip on the bowstring to let the arrow pierce the taller girl.

"Not only will I shoot you, but I will cut out that cheeky tongue of yours. Ramsay doesn't need to know. He is far away. The hounds are hungry, and they love the taste of sweet girls. Girls like you, Lady Bolton." Myranda suddenly lowered the bow. "It will all look like a little accident, the cages sadly not being properly shut. You have much meat on your hips, Ramsay told me," she said with a mischievous grin on her face. 

Sansa saw how Myranda was completely unaware of the person that was standing behind her, listening to her words. A gloved hand was on her shoulder, and she spun around, dropping her bow that landed in the snow as she saw the man in front of her. "What will look like an accident, Myranda? Were you trying to scare my wife with your bow?" Ramsay asked, and Myranda tried to bite back her anger. 

"I am glad that you have returned, Lord Ramsay," Myranda said, smiling up at him. Her smile disappeared as Ramsay passed her, walking toward Sansa. She was trying to prepare herself, and she was smothered with kisses. His lips were brushing hers, teeth starting to gently nibble at her bottom lip. Sansa wouldn't say that she missed him. One arm snaked around her waist, stroking her lower back. 

"Are you alright, my lady? You look very unhappy." Ramsay then turned his head, looking at the angry girl. He looked back at Sansa, feigning concern. "Did she bother you? Has she said anything to upset you? If so, tell me. I will promise to take care of it." Myranda's vision became blurry. Normally she was the one whom Ramsay wanted to protect. She wanted to kill the whore who called herself his wife.

Sansa had the chance, and she gladly used it. "Yes, my lord. She has threatened to feed me to the hounds," she answered calmly. "And she told me that she will try to kill our baby as soon as it would grow in my belly," she lied, and Myranda wanted to scream. Ramsay's eyes revealed disappointment. He walked away from Sansa and looked at Myranda.

"She is lying! The whore is lying, Ramsay! Don't believe her! I would never try to kill your blood, my lord, I wouldn't even think-" Myranda was forced to stop speaking as a large hand met her face, knocking her to the ground with a slap. She gasped and pressed her hand to her red cheek, looking up at Ramsay. "Ramsay! Please, she is lying!"

Sansa didn't expect from herself to actually like what she saw. "I knew that your jealousy would eventually cause problems. I should have left you at the Dreadfort," he said heartlessly. "You called my wife a liar. You called your lady a liar. It is very disrespectful to insult the ones who are above you, my sweet," he stated. Myranda was on the verge of crying, and she glared at Sansa.

"I should have drowned you in the tub, you cunt," Myranda muttered, and Ramsay's hand was in her hair, yanking her up harshly. She screamed and wiggled in his grip, and for the first time, she was scared of him. "Forgive me, my lord! Please listen to me!" Myranda desperately tried to save herself, but it was useless. She messed up.

"Stand," Ramsay commanded, letting go of her hair. "You are far too much trouble. But," he said in a happy tone, "There is always a fine solution for those who cause trouble!" With a smile, he picked up Myranda's bow and arrows, and Myranda fell to her knees. Sansa drew back, looking down at the pathetic girl that caused her own death. It seemed as if she was the one who bored Ramsay. 

Ramsay started to make the bow ready to shoot, and he glanced at the crying kennel girl that knelt in the snow. He was sure that his wife would be pleased with her death, and he wouldn't refuse to grant her that wish. She was his lady after all, highborn. Beautiful. Broken. Myranda was jealous and feisty, and sadly, it had managed to greatly displease Ramsay. At least the dogs had new flesh to bite on for a week.

"Poor Myranda. It isn't like you wanted it at all, is it?" He chuckled, and he started to draw the bow. Myranda was trembling by now. She started to crawl toward Ramsay, kneeling at his feet, laying her hands on his leg while she looked up. She almost looked like a hound herself. "Off with you," he commanded gently, shoving her away with his boot. He didn't know how frightened she could truly become.

"I didn't want to kill her! I just wanted to scare her, Ramsay! I swear it! And I never talked about your child, you have to-" Ramsay lost his patience and grew annoyed because of her constant babbling and begging. She became terrible, and he brought his hand to her neck, squeezing the air out of her lungs as he brought her back to her original poisition. She was standing again, and tears streamed down her face.

"Let's see. Which body part is it? My lady!" Ramsay turned to Sansa. "You will decide where the arrow will go through. Choose wisely," he warned, drawing the bow again. Myranda knew that it was too late to save herself, and she tried to remember the wonderful moments Ramsay and her shared. They hunted together, they tortured together and they shared a bed. 

"The one which will kill her quickly," Sansa responded, and Ramsay grinned wide as he heard the answer. His wife wanted to get rid of Myranda now, and she wasn't looking forward to waiting long. "I want her to look in my face as the arrow pierces her body," she added. Ramsay was hard by now, and his fingers were shaking from excitement. 

"As my lady wishes," he said. "Look at her!" Ramsay shouted, and Myranda cringed as she stood before them. She automatically shut her eyes, but she remembered Ramsay's command. She loved Ramsay, she always did. Trying to obey him, she opened her eyes, looking at Sansa. She was smiling.

The last thing Myranda thought of before Ramsay loosened the bowstring was their first hunt together, and everything went black forever as the arrow pierced her face. Her body fell to the ground, blood spreading in the snow. Sansa sighed in relief as she saw her dead body, and Ramsay was breathing fast. Both were smiling down at the corpse, and Sansa had one last problem to get rid of. Ramsay Bolton.


End file.
